My Name Is L
by GenvieveWoolf
Summary: L was a problem child, growing up in a time when parents and doctors were just beginning to learn what autism WAS, let alone how to cure it. Only Watari sees L's potential. Can he help L fulfill it?
1. Bells

_It is helpful (though not completely necessary) to read my story "Please" before you read this one. Link to the prequel: _.net/s/5786418/1/Please _This is my second story about L's childhood. I know I've only read two volumes of the manga, but I'm doing my research on autism and trying to make my story about L's past match canon as well as possible._

_I don't own Death Note or the characters from it. Unfortunately. xp  
_

* * *

If there was one thing Lawliet had made clear, it was that he did not want to leave the orphanage.

"He never liked attending functions with the other children," the superintendent told Watari apologetically as the latter held the wailing child in his arms. "Now he seems outraged that the warning bell is ringing and he can't go to nap time!"

"Don't worry," Watari said loudly so he could be heard above Lawliet's protestations. "I know it will take him some time to adjust, but he'll be just fine."

The superintendent opened the taxi door and helped Watari maneuvre the struggling four-year-old inside.

"No, no, no!" Lawliet exclaimed, finishing with a dry sob.

Watari fastened Lawliet's seat belt.

Lawliet whimpered, but he hadn't shed any tears. He stared down at the belt's buckle as he continued to make pitiful sounds.

"I plan to have some good progress to report to you soon," Watari told the superintendent through the cab window.

"Yes, I hope so. Goodbye, sir. Goodbye, Lawliet."

Lawliet did not respond. He reached down and tugged at his seat belt.

"I'll show you how to unfasten it when we get there," Watari told him.

The electric bell rang again for nap time as the taxi pulled away from the orphanage. Lawliet's head snapped up and he began to wail once more, reaching his thin little fingers toward the source of the ringing.

"I'm sorry you can't understand," Watari told him. "Someday you will, I hope."

The cab driver looked at his fare in his rearview mirror, looking annoyed but too uncomfortable to ask for silence.

"I'm afraid it can't be helped," Watari answered the unspoken request. "This boy has a condition which no one seems to know how to treat. One of the ways it affects him is that it makes him anxious about his surroundings and perhaps confused by his own senses. He doesn't understand language on the level that most children his age do."

"I'm sorry to hear that," the driver said, sounding sincere. "I got a kid not much older than that… Gee, it's too bad. Isn't there anything you can do?"

Watari looked at Lawliet's stricken face and outstretched arms. "I certainly hope so. I'll search until I find a way to help him."

* * *

Watari's first full day with Lawliet was nothing short of hellish. As he had promised, he showed Lawliet how to undo his seatbelt when they arrived at the hotel. Then Lawliet refused to leave the cab. He wanted to remain where he was, fastening and unfastening the seatbelt.

Next, the boy quickly became bored in the hotel suite. He sat in a corner for nearly an hour while Watari confirmed their flight to America. Then he got up and slouched from room to room, small hands shoved into small jeans pockets. His round eyes darted back and forth, staring distrustfully at Watari every time they spotted him.

Then he became fascinated by a little clock on the bookshelf which chimed twelve times at noon. Watari told him it was time for lunch, but Lawliet remained by the shelf, staring at the face of the clock and watching the second hand ticking around the numbers.

"Come on now, Lawliet, I've ordered lunch for you."

"Ring, ring," Lawliet said, still looking at the clock.

"It won't ring again for an hour," Watari said. "Come now, please."

"Ring," Lawliet insisted, pointing at the clock.

Watari wondered what the best approach was. Should he take food to Lawliet? Would humoring him do more harm than good? Could he hope to make progress if he discouraged the boy?

"Chirrrrr," Lawliet trilled, imitating the sound of the clock's chime. He reached for the shelf at chest height and put one bare foot on the shelf below. "Chirrr, Chirrr."

Watari stepped forward, wondering what Lawliet had done with his shoes and socks. "No, Lawliet. You mustn't climb."

Lawliet's mouth fell open as he felt himself being pulled back and he let out a shriek. Watari hoped the hotel staff would not ask them to leave.

"You can't climb on the furniture," Watari said firmly, setting Lawliet on the carpet. He took the clock off the shelf and moved it to the little table where lunch was waiting. "Come sit here and you may watch the clock while you eat."

"Candy," Lawliet declared, scooting for the table on all fours, reminding Watari of a baboon. He leaned over the seat of his chair until he was resting on his belly, grabbed the seat and pulled himself forward until he could get his knees up. Then he climbed into a crouching position, resting his hands on his knees in front of the table. He watched the clock. "Candy," he said again.

Over the last few weeks, Watari had visited Lawliet several times, and he had usually brought a sweet for the boy. Lawliet had always been eager for his treats, but never this demanding.

"Candy is not a proper meal," Watari answered. "Here we have an excellent roast pheasant, a vegetable stir fry, and for dessert, well-behaved boys may have a slice of red velvet cake."

"Cake," Lawliet said, taking his eyes off the clock to look at Watari.

"After lunch."

"Cake," Lawliet repeated, this time sounding anxious.

Watari took a deep breath. He had known this would be difficult. But he had to succeed here. Lawliet had so much potential; he could not let this boy's hidden talents remain below the surface. Somehow, he had to find a way to cure his charge.

"You said." Lawliet was pointing at Watari in an accusing manner.

"I said?"

"Every day."

Watari recalled telling Lawliet over a month before that if the child cooperated, he would be allowed to have sweets every day.

"The terms are conditional," Watari said, dishing out portions of food for himself and Lawliet. "Since you can't completely understand yet, I'll just say this: you must be good if you want your sweets. And eating lunch is a part of being good."

Lawliet's hands tightened on his knees and he glared at the clock.

"By the way," Watari went on, "I'm just going to call you 'L' from now on. It may be important one day that your real name is not known to the general public. So Lawliet will be our secret."

Lawliet looked up momentarily before returning his gaze to the clock. "Secret… secret," he muttered. "ssssssee-CRETT! Tuh, tuh, tuh."

Half of Watari wanted to view the repeated sounds as endearing, but he knew that Lawliet's auditory fixations were just part of the problem which needed to be solved. "That's enough, L."

"Chirrr," the boy directed at the clock.

_There's so much,_ Watari thought. _So much that needs correcting. How can I even begin?_

* * *

Lunch concluded abruptly. L had picked at his food very slowly and had to be scolded several times for leaving off. The food was completely cold before he was halfway through. Then the clock had chimed for one and L refused to be distracted from it anymore.

"Chirrr, chirrrrrrr," he exclaimed.

The only thing Watari could do to take attention off the clock again was to offer the cake, which L eagerly accepted. He swept the icing off with his fingers and licked them greedily.

"Use your fork," Watari reprimanded.

L rebelliously took up his long-handled teaspoon instead and used it to scoop off chunks of cake.

Watari conceded the choice of utensils, satisfied that he at least wasn't licking his fingers anymore.

And so the day went by. The orphanage staff had warned Watari that Lawliet insisted on wearing the same outfit every day, but L fortunately had no objection to changing into pajamas at night.

L sat up in bed, rubbing the soft sleeves of his bed wear.

"Do you like them?" Watari asked, smiling.

L continued rubbing.

Watari reached out slowly and placed his hands over L's. "You need to sleep now."

L's eyes became very wide. His fingers tightened into fists full of flannel. His little chest jerked down and up in quick ex- and inhalation.

"It's all right." Watari withdrew his hands. "I know you don't like feeling trapped. It's hard for you to let anyone else control you. I hope you will learn that letting me decide things for you is the best thing right now." He patted L's head. "Sleep now."

L continued to stare, but he seemed calm again. "Dodo," he said.

"I beg your pardon?" Watari was caught by surprise. Of all the possible tactics, he had not expected L to resort to name-calling.

"Dodo," L repeated. "Fay dodo."

This time Watari's eyes widened. _Fais dodo? __As in 'Je fais dormir?' _L had such a limited vocabulary—how could he know French baby talk? Of course, L had been in a couple of European orphanages, one in Switzerland. Perhaps there… but no, he wasn't even two years old then. He couldn't possibly remember…

"L," Watari said slowly, "_Est-ce que tu parles francais?"_

"_Tu parles,"_ L mimicked, with a perfect French "R" which he repeated a few times. "Rh, rh."

"Interesting," Watari murmured. Whether or not L had ever known much French, it seemed he might have a proficiency for it. Maybe he would respond better to French than he did to Japanese, though considering their destination, English might be the best choice for the time-being. Besides, English was the dominant language of the world these days, and the language of England, where Watari had set up one of his best orphanages which he planned to make the headquarters for his long-term plan.

"Well then," Watari told him in English, "_fait dodo_ now, L. We will make more progress tomorrow, I hope. You're going to fly on an airplane, and I will need you to behave yourself."

"Fly… fly… fly," L murmured, tugging at a strand of hair hanging in his face as Watari settled him back on his pillow. "Fffffff…"

"Shh. Go to sleep." Watari turned out L's light and went quietly to his adjoining room. He hoped L wouldn't pull any tricks to try to stay up late.

* * *

_More to come. Hope you enjoyed. I love to hear what you liked and if you'd like to read more. :)_


	2. Clothes

_Glad people seem to like it so far. I'm been having fun researching for this story. Keep in mind that when L was a child, much less was known about autism than we what we know today. Enjoy the next part!  
_

* * *

Lawliet was trapped. He'd been trying to crawl through the fence at the orphanage and become stuck halfway through. He rocked back and forth trying to loosen himself, but the bars rubbed his sides and hurt him. He began to moan in pain. Then someone was calling out behind him…

"L… L, it's all right."

Why was he calling him 'L?' Lawliet cried louder.

"Wake up, L. You're all right. Everything's fine."

L opened his eyes. He couldn't see anything, but he could feel hands on his shoulders. He didn't like it. He resumed his crying.

Watari turned on the table lamp. "You're perfectly safe here. We're at the hotel, remember?"

The four-year-old blinked his round grey eyes in the sudden light. "Go back," he said sleepily.

"I'm afraid you can't go back. But we'll be going on to America in the morning."

"Wanna go back!"

"Please, L, I've already told you—you can't go back. I told you many times over the last few weeks that I would be taking you away…"

"I want to go back!" L shrieked.

Watari was beginning to worry that the guests next door would hear the commotion and complain, but this was the best-constructed sentence he had ever heard L utter. "You know you weren't happy there either," he said quietly. "I want to help you become healthy and well-educated so you can live a good life. Some day you will understand."

"I want to go back I want to go back I want to go back," L chanted, bouncing a little on the bed.

Watari sighed. He hoped he could find a doctor in America who would know how he should begin trying to cure L. He knew that there was no known cure for autism, and that most people assumed that its victims would be at a disadvantage their entire lives, but he had also heard of isolated cases of patients showing improvement under intensive therapy. If there was any possibility of healing him—however slight—Watari would not give up.

* * *

Watari had the beginnings of his own dark circles under his eyes the next morning. L had cried several times during the night, and when Watari went to get him up to leave for the airport, L was sitting in a crouch against his headboard, as if he hadn't slept since Watari left him around 4 am.

"Here is a new suit to wear to the airport," Watari said, presenting a white button-down shirt, grey tie, suit pants and blazer.

L didn't move.

"Time to get up, L."

L's hands tightened on his flannel-clad knees. He muttered something to himself.

"What did you say?" Watari inquired.

L went on muttering.

Watari leaned closer to him so he could hear the muttering.

"Four times two is eight. Five times two is ten. Six times two is twelve."

Watari couldn't help smiling. "L," he said gently, "we can work on your times tables on the airplane. Now please, come and get dressed."

L still didn't move.

Watari took him by the arm and tugged him gently out of bed.

L began crying.

Watari unbuttoned L's pajamas, hoping no one would be upset by the noise of the crying youngster. He forced L's rigid arm through the sleeve of his new shirt.

"No, no, no!" L said, pulling his arm back.

"I want you to look nice when we go out in public, L."

"Want MY shirt!" L cried in distress.

"Your shirt is dirty from yesterday," Watari answered, even though he knew the orphanage volunteers had packed up several sets of L's favorite outfit for him before they left.

"I want my shirt!" L repeated. "I want my shirt I want my shirt I want my shirt…" his hands bobbed up and down in front of him, his clothed arm making the rest of the shirt flap on the floor.

Watari knelt in front of him. "I will offer you a compromise," he said. "If you can ask calmly and properly, I will allow you to wear the clothes you want to the airport."

L stopped his chanting and sniffled.

"We've been over how to ask politely for things," Watari prompted.

L scrubbed at his moist eyes with both hands. "Please."

"One word won't do in this case, L. Try to form a complete sentence."

"Want my shirt!" L tugged the sleeve of the button-down shirt off his arm and dropped it to the floor.

Watari clenched his fists. _Don't do anything hasty. It's probably more panic than insubordination._ "It may take some practice, but I know you can ask better than that. You must keep trying if you are ever to improve. L, ask me as nicely as you can."

L hunched over, rubbing his hands up and down his goose bump-covered arms.

Watari waited. And waited. He wondered if they would stand like that until they missed their plane. Then he heard L say in a soft chirp he had never heard before:

"My… may have please… my shirt? Please?" A tear slipped down the side of L's face and he took in a shuddering breath.

Watari relented immediately. "Yes, of course. I'll get it for you." He retrieved the long-sleeved T-shirt and a pair of jeans from L's travel bag and brought them back to the shivering child.

L willingly put both hands into the shirt and let Watari pull it down over his head. Then he allowed his pajama pants to be changed for the jeans. "Thank you," he said.

"You're welcome," Watari smiled. "Now, for your socks and shoes…"

"No socks and shoes."

"Don't be so stubborn, L."

"You said."

Watari blinked. "I don't recall saying you didn't have to wear socks and shoes…"

"You said. Clothes I want."

"So I did… but it's a bit dangerous to go out in public with bare feet. And it's cold out, too. If you will wear them to the airport, I'll let you take them off on the plane. All right?"

L was silent for some time, looking at the footwear Watari had laid out. "No socks," he said.

Watari considered. "All right. On this occasion I will let you wear shoes without socks. But if you do that often, you will develop blisters. So we will not make a habit of this. Understand?"

L nodded.

Watari wasn't sure whether or not L really understood, but he took the positive response as encouraging. "All right, now we have to hurry. We mustn't be late for our flight."

"Ring, ring," L said expectantly.

"Ring?"

"Brrrrrrrring!"

It suddenly occurred to Watari that L associated lateness with bells ringing. "No, there won't be any ringing…" He bent to help L with his shoes, but L had his own ideas. He toddled quickly from the room. "L—wait!"

A moment later, Watari found L trying to climb the small bookshelf to get at the little clock.

"Chirrr… chirrrrrrr…"

Watari smacked L's hand lightly with his fingertips and pulled L off the shelf.

"Uh—" L exclaimed.

Watari set L on the floor and turned him so they were facing each other.

"That hurt," L said, eyes wide.

"Yes," Watari answered, hoping he hadn't gone too far. "I know that you could fall off that shelf and get hurt very badly. So I inflicted a small amount of pain on you to teach you not to disobey. I told you yesterday not to climb on the furniture."

L scowled. There were no tears, and he didn't seem to be in any pain. He looked back at the clock.

"We can't stay around waiting for the clock to chime," Watari said. "We have a plane to catch."

L allowed himself to be taken back to his room and his shoes to be put on his feet. He watched mutely as Watari packed his suit away and gathered the rest of their things. But when they were about to leave the hotel suite, L tried to pull away again.

"Chirrrrr," he said, reaching back toward the shelf with the clock.

"It's time to go, L," Watari told him firmly.

"Chirrr, chirr!"

Watari dragged L through the door, pushing their luggage cart ahead of him.

"Wait," L cried. "Wait!" When Watari showed no signs of conceding, L's protests dissolved into unintelligible moaning.

Watari wondered whether he should bribe, threaten or reason with L. Perhaps he should just ignore him. Other hotel guests were beginning to peek out from behind their doors.

"L, please," Watari said as they waited at the desk to check out of the hotel, "don't be difficult. You'll like the plane…"

"Obviously he doesn't believe in discipline," Watari heard a woman tell her companion in a whisper just a little too loud.

Watari turned to face the woman who had spoken. He wanted to say so many things to her that his mind couldn't decide on a single thing. At last he said, "Madam, if your child had caught a cold, would you punish him for letting his throat get sore?"

Taken aback, the woman answered, "Well—of course not..."

"Neither shall I punish this child for displaying a symptom of his condition." Watari turned back to the counter and pointedly ignored the rest of the world.

L's moans died to quiet whimpering. When Watari took his hand, L did not try to pull away. They walked together to their waiting cab.

* * *

_That's it, but I have another chapter almost done. Let me know how I'm doing. :)_


	3. Play

_Here's part 3. Enjoy! (all previous disclaimers apply, but the new characters introduced in this chapter are completely my own invention.)  
_

* * *

L did not like his new home. It was a Wammy-founded orphanage in a quiet section of New York state. He did not like the other children there. He did not like his room. The only things familiar to him besides his own clothes were… well, there was only one thing: Watari.

"L," Watari said, leading the boy into the playroom, "these children will be learning with you here. I want you to be polite to them."

L hid behind Watari's legs.

"Don't be shy. This is Saburo."

The older boy looked up from his block house and tried to meet the gaze of the hiding L. "Hi," he said.

L scowled and hid his face.

Watari led L over to another boy, this one blond. "This is Kent."

"Hi, L," Kent said, smiling. "Are you Japanese like Sabu?"

L stuck his tongue out.

Two little Asian girls, who were playing with toy ponies in a corner, observed L's reaction and giggled.

"These two," Watari said, pointing the girls out, "are Cho and Hoshi."

"Hi," Cho offered.

Hoshi smiled and giggled again.

L looked up at Watari, wondering what he was supposed to do.

"And this is Esther," Watari said, pointing out a little redhead. "She's the only one here younger than you are."

L looked around at the children in the room. "More?" he asked.

"Yes, there are other children living in the orphanage. These are the ones you will be spending the most time with."

L's round eyes moved from person to person. "Why?" he asked. He seemed to think something was wrong…

"I suppose you are used to being grouped with others your age, and perhaps all boys," Watari guessed. "The truth is that these children are ones who are doing very well in school. They learn things sooner than most children their age. Saburo is good at logic problems. He shows an aptitude for psychology."

"Ap…ti…tude," L repeated slowly.

"Ability to learn and use," said Esther.

L looked at her in surprise, noticing suddenly that the tiny girl was working with a doodle pad and crayons. She seemed to be writing something.

Watari smiled. "Esther is our vocabulary genius. She is only three and a half years old, but she has a very comprehensive knowledge of the English language. She wants to learn other languages, too. I want you to spend a lot of time with Esther—she'll be good for your limited speech."

L scowled at Esther.

Esther smiled.

"Kent has an aptitude for electronic things," Watari went on. Perhaps he can teach you how to use a computer. You would like that, I think."

L dropped to the floor and pulled his knees up in front of himself.

"Cho and Hoshi came here together from an orphanage in Japan. They both like martial arts. Hoshi especially likes performing karate. Cho is more interested in the history and traditions of martial art forms."

L continued to scowl as he began rocking back and forth. Watari didn't know if anything he was saying was sinking in.

"Cho is also good at psychology, and Hoshi shows an ability to befriend nearly anyone. You can learn a lot from these girls."

L muttered something.

Watari knelt beside him. "What was that?"

"No girls."

"I won't tolerate any stubbornness," Watari chided.

"Here—" Saburo shoved a pile of blocks toward L. "You can play with these."

"Get to know your classmates," Watari said. "I have some important calls to make, but I will be back soon."

As Watari stepped away, L's arms shot out and he clung to Watari's ankle. "No!" he exclaimed.

"L, I have to go now. I'll be back."

"Me too! Me too, me too, me too!"

"No. You have to stay here." Watari reached down and forcibly detached L's fingers from his ankle. "I'll see you soon."

L began to wail as Watari walked away from him. "Waaaaaaaah! Me tooooooo! Me too!" He sobbed loudly, tears squeezing out from the corners of his squinting eyes.

Once outside the play room, Watari turned to watch through the one-way glass.

Hoshi darted forward and put her arms around L, which just made him shriek louder.

"Hoshi, let go," Saburo instructed.

Hoshi obeyed and sat back, staring sympathetically at L's stricken face.

"L-kun," Saburo said gently.

L slumped back into his hands-on-knees position and rocked back and forth.

"L-kun, listen to me. We can all play nicely together."

L moaned, showing no signs of hearing Saburo's voice.

"No one likes all that noise you're making. Let's all build something together."

"I'll sketch out the plans with Esther," Cho offered. "Esther, may you please help with your note pad?"

Esther took her doodle pad and crayons to Cho's corner and they got down to work.

"When the plans are done, I'll calculate the measurements," Kent offered.

"And Hoshi and I can do the putting together," Sabu said, beginning to sort the blocks by size and shape. "Now, which part would you like to help with?"

The children all fell silent, staring at L.

L sniffled, his wails dying away to quiet whimpers.

To Watari's amazement, the children all remained silent, patiently waiting for nearly three full minutes while L's breathing slowly returned to normal. Then, ever so slowly, L scooted forward to sit beside Saburo.

"OK, everyone," Saburo said, "L's going to help me sort the blocks here…"

L showed no signs of wanting to help, but the children accepted Saburo's statement and returned to their own projects.

Watari smiled and tore himself away from the observation window. The other children had behaved like adults in their problem-solving, even though a childish play-project had been the catalyst. L would be all right without him for an hour or so. If everything seemed all right then, he might leave him with the others a bit longer.

* * *

The doctors all seemed to say the same thing.

"Sure, I'll take a look at him, but I'll tell you right now: there's no cure for autism."

"If you believe that, then what would be the point of making an appointment?" Watari asked one doctor.

"Well, there are ways you can keep it from getting worse."

"Are these 'ways' tested and proven?"

"Well… not exactly. That is, they often help, but not always. It depends on the case…"

Several specialists expressed interest in L, but none of them seemed confident that they could help. One by one, Watari scratched the doctors off his list. He had brought L here for two reasons. First, because this orphanage was where he had sent all of the most gifted children he had run across. Second, because there were many doctors in the area who were known for treating behavioral disorders. The first reason had been justified nicely, but the second was being bitterly disappointed.

Finally, Watari received some hope.

"Sir, it's true that autism has no known cure. But I don't think we should be treating it like a mental disease, per se. It's more like… like the mind and body are reacting to something that most people don't react to."

"Like an allergy?" Watari asked.

"Sort of. See, I used to be a pediatrician before I started my behavioral studies, and I would see some incredible variety among children. They could be the same age, same weight, same race, same social standing, and one would thrive while the other seemed to wither. In some cases we found that something as simple as giving the sickly child a regular dose of vitamins could help him catch up with his peers. My theory is that it has something to do with our metabolism—some kids are programmed in their genes to need very little help from their environment while other kids need a lot of help. Does that make sense?"

"I think I see what you're saying. And you think this could apply to autism?"

"I definitely think that it could. And I think that if we try doing things backwards… you see, most of the time we use symptoms to tell what the illness is, and then we treat the illness to stop the symptoms. But with autism we don't really know what the causing illness is, so we have to do things backwards—treat the symptoms to lessen the cause."

"That's the most encouraging thing I've heard from a doctor since my return to the states," Watari said gratefully. "I know you're not promising me anything, but you're saying there's a reason to try something new, and I'm with you completely. I'd like you to meet the boy I've been telling you about."

* * *

When Watari returned to the play room, he saw that Cho seemed to be introducing Esther to her toy ponies. Hoshi and Saburo were setting out a row of blocks on the rug. Then he spotted L. L was watching over Kent's shoulder as the latter looked at Esther's doodle pad, punched numbers on a calculator, then made notes on the pad with a pencil.

Watari looked at his watch. It was nearly time for lunch. But the children were getting along well with L, and he didn't want to spoil it. He took out his cell phone and waited while it dialed.

"Yes, sir? What is it?"

"Mitchell, I'd like you to stop the lunch bell from ringing," Watari requested.

"All right… any particular reason?"

"The new boy, L, has a fixation with bells. He's doing very well at the moment and I don't want him to be distracted. Let the advanced children stay in their play room until I give the word. I know this means you'll have to go to each of the other play rooms to gather the children—is that all right?"

"Sure," Mitchell replied. "Long as it's not every day," he added lightly.

"No, I'm sure it won't be." Watari put his phone away and watched in delight as Kent handed L the calculator.

L began pressing buttons quickly. Kent pointed things out to L from time to time.

Watari couldn't tell if L was really listening to his instructions. But L did seem to love the calculator. Watari recalled that the superintendent of his last orphanage had mentioned that L liked math, especially statistics and percentages. Perhaps L should have a calculator of his own.

* * *

_That's all for now. :) Hope you're liking it so far._


	4. Doctor

_New chapter! enjoy!  
_

* * *

L's first visit to the doctor was as eventful as Watari had expected. Getting the samples the doctor had requested was just the preliminary nightmare.

When they got to the doctor's office, L didn't want to play with the other children in the waiting room. He kept to himself and eyed the others distrustfully. While the others built highways for matchbox cars, L surreptitiously pilfered unwatched toys and began stacking them.

The more varied the toys were, the more wobbly L's tower became. But he had an unusually steady hand for someone his age. About ten minutes into their waiting period, one of the children jumped in excitement, sending a strong vibration through the floor. L's tower of toys teetered and cascaded over his head and knees.

L stared a moment before he began to moan in frustration. One of the other children rushed over and hastily tried to rebuild L's tower. L shrieked in anger this time, reaching out with one foot to kick at the little girl's leg.

Watari noticed then that L had once again removed his socks and shoes. Resigned to his fate, Watari got out of his seat and picked L up off the floor. "I'm terribly sorry," he told the little girl, who looked like her feelings were hurt more than her leg was. "Eraldo, stop that noise at once."

L paid no attention. Watari had explained that he would use a false name for L while they were out in public, but he doubted that L had understood. The boy continued his tearless crying.

"Come here," Watari said, setting L down in a corner by some building blocks. "If you want to build a tower, you should use uniform items—things that are of a similar size and shape. Then your tower will hold together much better."

L's wailing quieted and he watched Watari's hands as the old gentleman laid a foundation of blocks similar to the one he had seen the children at the orphanage making. When he pulled his hands away, L reached out to complete the rectangle-shaped layer of blocks on the carpet.

Watari backed away while L took over the construction job. He managed to get L's socks and shoes back on while he was distracted. All was well—until it was their turn to see the doctor. L did not want to leave his new project.

"Does he like fruit juice?" Dr. Jackson inquired, observing the way L wriggled and went stiff by turns, trying to weasel out of Watari's arms while keeping up his siren-like wailing.

"Yes," Watari answered. He was glad the doctor had a plan. Soon L was quietly slurping at a juice box.

"How old did you say he was?"

"Four. He's small for his age."

"Yes, he is. I'd say he's in the bottom ten percentile."

L perked up and stared at the doctor, acknowledging his presence for the first time.

"Eraldo likes statistics," Watari explained.

"That's unusual for someone his age. But then, I've noticed that many autistic children show an unusual aptitude for one or two areas of study while the rest of their education moves slowly. Do you think he will answer some questions for me?"

"He doesn't talk much at all, but you're welcome to try. Language development is one of the things I want very much to help him with."

Dr. Jackson nodded. "Yes, that is very important. Eraldo, Mr. Wammy says that you like statistics. Do you know what fractions are?"

L eyed the doctor, his head tilted to one side, his tongue running up and down his little plastic straw. "Fractions," he said.

"His pronunciation is better than most," the doctor noted.

"He likes unusual sounds," Watari said. "Making them as well as listening to them."

"Do you know what the fraction one-tenth is, if you turn it into a percentage?" Dr. Jackson asked L.

L slurped at his straw before saying quietly, "T-ten percent. Ten-percent, ten-percent, ten-percent."

"He also likes to say things several times in a row," said Watari.

The doctor smiled. "That is very good, Eraldo. Now, can you tell me what fraction twenty percent would be? Twenty percent. What is the fraction?"

"Fraction."

"Twenty percent as a fraction."

L scowled, taking a quiet sip of juice and purposely letting it dribble down his chin.

Watari took a paper towel from a dispenser by the sink and mopped L's face. "Shame on you," he chided. "Answer the doctor's question."

"Hmm!" said L stubbornly.

"I know you know the answer. Now use words and tell him."

L moved to take another sip of juice, but Watari covered the straw with his hand. L cried out in anger.

"None of that," Watari told him firmly. "Concentrate on answering the question. What is twenty percent as a fraction?"

L's eyes shot daggers, first at Watari, then at the doctor. "Point two," he said.

"That is a decimal. You know the difference. Say it out loud."

"One fifth!" L shrieked. He threw his juice box to the floor and stomped his foot.

Watari retrieved the juice box and set it on the countertop beyond L's reach. This action made L take up his angry crying again.

"Remarkable," the doctor said. "He really does seem to understand mathematics. Abstract ideas such as decimals and fractions are normally beyond the understanding of his age group."

"Yes," said Watari. "He is also good at drawing geometric shapes. But whatever he does, he seems to get set in a pattern, and it's difficult to get him to move on to something new. Just now, I think he resented your asking the second question in a different way than you did the first—asking him for the fraction instead of the percentage. He's very fond of percentages for some reason."

"Percentages," L paused his crying to say. "Percent. Per…cents. Percents, percents, percents."

"How has he slept the last few nights?"

"Not well… In fact, not much at all."

"Does he have a lot of sugar in his diet?"

"I'm afraid it's hard to get him to eat anything that _doesn't_ have sugar in it," Watari admitted.

"All right; there is the place to start. I want you to start keeping a record of everything Eraldo eats. I want you to gradually feed him less sugar. If you must give him sweets, try to give him things that are naturally sweet, like fruit. Not things that have sugar added to them, like soda pop."

"That will be very hard on his sweet tooth… Do you think it might be helpful to use an artificial sweetener so he can still have some of his favorite things?"

Dr. Jackson shook his head. "I wouldn't try that at this point. We want to know for sure what's helping and what's not, so we should try to change just one thing at a time, if at all possible."

"I see. Do you think this will help him sleep more?"

"It may; it may not. A colleague of mine told me he had an autistic child become almost completely normal in behavior after just a few weeks on a very low-sugar diet. But that is not typical, I'm afraid. Some children seem to exhibit even more autistic behavior when you change up their diets… We still know very little about this condition. It really is trial and error. So we'll try this for a couple of weeks and see what happens. We'll take another urine and stool sample and see if there's any change. I'll send you the lab report when it is available. We may find that Eraldo is deficient in certain vitamins—that's an element we can experiment with after this first diet."

"There is a lot to do," Watari said resignedly. "But I want to do whatever we can. I know he has great talent that shouldn't be wasted."

L sniffled and stared up at the juice box on the counter, his eyes wide and misty. "Please?" he said, as if praying to the box.

"Make a sentence," Watari prompted gently. "Tell me what you want."

L wiped his eyes on his white sleeve. "Please… please, please. Juice… Want juice, please."

"That will do," Watari said, handing the box back to L.

Dr. Jackson smiled. "He does have a long way to go. But I think you have a way with him, Mr. Wammy. With someone like you supporting him, I think he has a good shot."

"Mishter Wammy," L muttered, chewing his straw.

* * *

_More coming soon-hope you're liking it! xD_


	5. As Much as You Can

_Here you go - chapter 5! Enjoy._

_Note: I don't own "Play Doh" or "My Little Pony." xD  
_

* * *

L's dark look said clearly that he was suspicious. He had taken just one bite of the "raisin bran" Watari set before him, but that seemed to tell him all he needed to know.

"Not raisin blan," he accused.

"Bran."

"Not raisin bran."

"Why do you say that?" Watari asked innocently.

"Missing."

"Missing?"

"Shoo-gur's missing."

"Nonsense. Those raisins are plenty sweet enough for you. They have sugar inside them."

"Nuh-uh!" L pushed the bowl away forcefully enough to splash milk out on the far side. "Yucky."

Watari sighed. His efforts had been wasted. He didn't like deceiving L, but he knew it was in the boy's best interest. "Come now," he said, half-heartedly trying to save the situation, "you can eat that…"

"Wheaties."

"I beg your pardon?" Watari was shocked. He had figured the jig was up, but had L actually unmasked his charade?

"Wheaties and raisins. R-raisins… reg-regular, regular raisins. Regular raisins."

Watari had poured the mixture out of a Kellogg's Raisin Bran box, but L had figured out the truth. Saying "Would I do a thing like that?" would be pointless.

"All right, L," Watari conceded. "You're right. But you can't have real raisin bran right now. We need you to eat less sugar so you can grow up well and strong."

L growled.

"Don't be rude. Eat your breakfast."

"Stupid. Stupid doctor."

"No, sir," Watari said firmly. "You are not to say things like that." He turned L's chair to face him. "Now, listen to me for a moment. Doctor Jackson is a very good man. He wants you to be healthy like other children. He wants you to be able to learn as quickly as they do, and to enjoy running and playing the way they do. But most of all, Doctor Jackson wants you to be a successful adult, just as I do. We want you to have that chance, L. I know you can do it. Won't you try?"

L had avoided Watari's gaze, but now he studied his mentor's face. "Try," he whispered. "Try… try, try."

"Will you?"

L locked his gaze on Watari's eyes. "Yes, try."

"Thank you. Now…" Watari turned L's chair back to the table. "Please, eat as much as you can of this."

L huffed out a breath that made his spiky bangs float upward. "Why?"

"Because of those things I just told you… because this is an experiment to see if eating certain things can make you better or sicker. I need your help with this experiment. I need you to eat as much as you can when I tell you to."

L frowned hard at the cereal bowl. Then, slowly, he reached for his spoon. "Try," he said. Then he added, "Yucky."

* * *

"What's that?" Saburo asked.

Watari had brought a plastic tablecloth to the advanced children's playroom and begun spreading it on the floor.

"Wussat, wussat," L mimicked.

"Say it correctly," said Watari.

L scowled. "What's that," he spat grudgingly.

"It's a plastic mat for using Play doh," Watari answered.

"Ooooh," Hoshi clapped her hands. "Play doh!"

Soon each child had a plastic can of colored dough. The older children immediately began shaping their dough. It was Esther's first time with Play doh, too, so she and L only watched the others for a while.

"You can make anything you like with this," Watari told the two smallest children. "Just make sure you keep it on the mat and don't get any on the carpet. And please don't mix the colors. When you're older, you may have your own and mix it if you like, but for now they need to remain separate."

Esther nodded and held out her pink-topped can for Watari. "Will you open it for me, please?" Soon her little fingers were squeezing the dough into a lumpy caterpillar shape.

"Squishy," Esther said with a little smirk, as if she had been allowed just this once to do something otherwise thought naughty.

L pried at the blue lid on his own can, but his fingers weren't strong enough. He whined and held the can out to Watari.

"Use words, L."

L dropped the can and put his hands on his knees, staring stubbornly at the floor, the other children, anything but Watari.

"Say 'please,'" Hoshi prompted.

L glared at her as if to say, "Traitor."

Saburo had already sculpted a bull's head and was working on a body for it. Kent had begun forming an airplane. Cho kept squishing her failed pony attempts. Hoshi was just playing with her dough, passing it from one hand to the other, and watching L. Esther was rolling a tube of dough on the plastic mat.

At last, L's jealousy overcame his stubbornness and he picked up his can, holding it out to Watari again. "Open please?"

"Can you say, 'Please open this for me?'"

L scowled again, but it didn't last long. "Please… open… open…"

"Please open this for me," Esther reminded him.

L uttered a small noise of frustration before trying again. "Please open… for me?"

"Close enough," Watari relented. "We'll keep working on that." He pried the blue lid off L's can and gave it back.

Eagerly, L dug his fingers into the dough. Then he froze. "Uh…" His eyes were wide, his mouth hanging open.

"Squishy," Esther said happily.

L dropped his lump of blue dough on the mat and stared at the bits sticking to his fingers. He tried to pick them off, anxiety building in his expression. In desperation, he put his fingers into his mouth. They came out almost immediately, and L began to wail, his eyes quickly filling with tears.

"What's wrong?" Hoshi asked, her face full of concern.

"No, no, no," L sobbed, hugging his knees. "Don't want! Don't want… yucky!"

"All right," Watari said, disappointedly scooping L up. "We'll go wash your hands." He had hoped that L would take to the substance and show his creativity, but it seemed that the texture—not to mention the taste—of Play doh was more than he could handle right now.

"You know, you shouldn't put things in your mouth if they're not food," Watari told L gently as he held the boy up so he could reach the sink. L only whimpered in reply.

When L's hands were clean, Watari tried again. He brought a box of dominoes to the playroom. "You may like these better," he said. They're smaller than your building blocks, but if you're careful you can stack them just the same."

Still red-eyed and a bit sniffly, L reached timidly for the dominoes and began setting them out on the carpet beside the mat where the other children were still using Play doh.

"I made a pony!" Cho said, holding it up for Watari to see.

"Very nice," Watari told her. "You should see if you can make it just like one of your toys."

"Well… I am trying," Cho said, looking at her sparkle-maned My Little Pony. "But I can't make hair like that."

Watari smiled. "No, I suppose not."

"This is a B-17," Kent said, showing off his airplane. "It's gonna drop bombs on Japan."

"Hey!" Saburo exclaimed angrily. "Don't forget half of us are FROM Japan!"

"Oh, not really," Kent said a little sheepishly. "Just in World War Two. That was a long time ago."

"For some," Watari put in. He had been a child during the war, but he remembered the atmosphere of excitement and terror from that time.

"Well, mine's a bull," Saburo said. "But I can't get it to stand up…"

"You need to make its legs bigger at the base," Kent told him. "It's structurally insound."

"Unsound," Esther corrected.

Watari hid a smile. "What did you make, Hoshi?"

"Mine's not done," Hoshi said. "I'm trying to make a butterfly." She slowly cut at her slab of yellow dough with a plastic knife from a toy food set.

"How about you, Esther?"

"Um… I don't know," Esther said. "I was trying to make a snake… it keeps getting lumps in it."

"Just keep practicing. It takes a while to get the hang of it."

"You make something, Mr. Wammy," Hoshi suggested.

"Well, now…"

"Yes," Cho said. She usually agreed with whatever Hoshi said.

"What shall I make?" Watari asked, picking up L's abandoned blue lump.

L stuck his tongue out in the dough-users' general direction and continued stacking his dominoes.

"A pony!" "A truck!" "How about a eagle?" the children suggested.

"Hmm." Watari began playing with the dough, rolling and squeezing it between his fingers. "It's been a long time since I used Play dough. Let's see…"

Even L paused his own activity to watch Watari work. From time to time someone would guess what they thought he was making. Finally, he was done.

"It's a child," Esther exclaimed.

Disappointed at not guessing first, L put in, "A boy."

"It is a child," Watari confirmed. "I suppose it could be a boy or a girl."

"A boy," L repeated.

Hoshi laughed.

"What do you suppose this child will be when he grows up?" Watari asked them.

"A doctor," said Cho.

"Maybe a zookeeper," said Hoshi.

"A pilot for my plane," said Kent.

"He could be a lawyer," said Esther, looking thoughtful.

"He'll be whatever he wants, right?" said Saburo.

Watari smiled. Then he heard L's little voice.

"Muches he can."

"What's that, L?"

L licked his lips and frowned in concentration. "He'll be… muches… much as… he can… can, can."

"Yes," Watari said, wondering how well L understood what he had just said. "That is what each of us should be—as much as we can."

* * *

_Thanks for reading! Please review. :)_


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